


Convalescence

by shobogan



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Chorus Trilogy, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Pre-Femslash, Stitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8615818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shobogan/pseuds/shobogan
Summary: Carolina's grief has left her reckless and vulnerable. Dr. Grey has a few things to say about that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is set some point after season thirteen. 
> 
> I don’t actually know where they are or why Carolina is getting shot at, beyond the fact that she’s Carolina.

The first person who ever stitched her back together was her mother.

She was four years old, maybe five, and she’d fallen out of her treehouse. (It was a sight to behold, an intricate fortress of wood and fibre and steel painted a dozen different colours.) It wasn’t a long drop, but she skidded right down the bark, and it ripped her arm wide open.

She was shrieking, more than crying, shocked and angry and _betrayed_. Her mother was there in moments.

Carolina can’t remember what she said, but she’s pretty sure it wasn’t “You fucking idiot!”

Doctor Grey doesn’t sound any less cheerful when she’s cursing at you, and somehow that makes it worse.

“I wasn’t _trying_ to get shot.”

“No?” Grey snaps a glove on before jabbing a finger at her. “You sure weren’t trying _not_ to. You don’t have a shield any more!”

That reminder hurts a lot more than the bullets did. Grey doesn’t even respond to the angry grimace as she grabs the local anaesthetic. (Not the quality she’s used to working with, she’s been sure to point out on multiple occasions.) “You _could_ , if you weren’t so _stubborn_ \- “

“Please stop talking and start digging bullets out of me.”

Grey’s stare is withering, but the needle goes in painlessly. “Do you know you’ve been injured more times than Simmons? _Simmons_.”

Carolina can’t shrug properly, since one shoulder has a bullet in it, but she gives it a good try. “More practice for you.” 

Grey scoffs, as she gets to work. “I can get a lot more practice with the corpses.”

She’s pretty sure, a long time ago, that would have sounded disturbing. 

A long time ago, scraping her skin open felt like agony. Her mother carried her inside, and promised that the pain wouldn’t last. It was so easy to feel safe, in those arms. She remembers…

“Carolina? Am I losing you?” 

Her eyes go wide, darting back to Grey. Reluctantly, “I might have lost a little too much blood.”

Grey heaves an entirely too dramatic sigh, staring up into the stalactites. “That happens when you get shot three times and don’t do anything about it.”

“My healing unit isn’t - “

“You have _bandages_!” It’s almost a shriek by the end. Grey’s hands remain as swift and steady as always, but Carolina can see something desperate in her eyes.

“…I’m okay, Emily.” 

Grey doesn’t meet her gaze, staring resolutely at her bloody fingers. One bullet down, two to go. “You might not be, next time. And I’m - I - ” She takes a deep breath, before she finally looks up. “I’m very tired of losing patients.”

“I’m tired of losing _everybody_.” It’s not what she meant to say. She’s lost too much blood.

_It’s all right, sweetheart. You’re so strong, just stay still for me, okay?_

Grey sets the second bullet aside, before yanking off one of the bloody gloves. Her hand lingers, uncertain, before she rests it on Carolina’s chest, above her heart. “Did you know, in an average lifetime, a human heart will beat about three million times?”

“…No?” Feeling nonplussed is better than feeling anguished, at least.

“You can tear it out of a body, and it will still keep beating.”

“I’m guessing you’ve tried.”

“Of course. Anyway - “ She presses down, just a little, and Carolina can feel her heartbeat thrumming against Grey’s hand. “They keep going. Even when it seems impossible.”

She pulls back, grabbing fresh gloves. “Assuming you don’t get shot in the chest. Or sliced to pieces by hard light particles. Or incinerated by - “

“I get it, Grey.” Carolina’s voice is a bit too hoarse, and she can feel her eyes burning. Probably that subpar anaesthesia wearing off.

“Good.” Curt and bright, as she sets to work on the last bullet. “Even I can’t work miracles.” 

“No.” She remembers asking her mom why she couldn’t just make the pain go away. Make her arm work like it was supposed to, so she could climb again.

_Healing takes time. And sometimes you don’t, not all the way. You have to learn how to be different._

She still has that scar. When she looks at it, she can remember what her mother sounded like.

“I want to talk to Theta.”

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to god, one day I'm getting these stubborn idiots to kiss.


End file.
